The Night the King Claimed Her

CHAPTER SIX

Three months earlier, evening

FELIPESTOODBENEATHthe streaming shower jets and spun the tap to cold. Ideally he’d have taken a quick swim but he didn’t have time. Cool down, get back in control, carry on.

He dressed for dinner as always. The expectation had been enforced by his grandfather and they’d maintained the routine in recent years to try to stave off his decline. Since his passing, Felipe had continued it. Structure and stability mattered. He didn’t put on a suit though. Fresh shirt, trousers—no jacket, no tie. It was as casual as he got with guests.

But his temperature climbed again just at the thought of her. There was a reason he’d left the music room. But for the same reason he’d kept listening. He’d leaned against the wall just outside, eavesdropping. His curiosity was too strong to resist. He’d not heard the words clearly but he’d felt their tone—the gentle encouragement of husky-voiced Elsie.

Then there’d been the revelation and he couldn’t have moved even if he’d tried. He’d been blown away by Amalia. Her talent and skill? Guilt had swiftly followed. He’d had no idea. All these months and he’d not known, not understood something that was such a huge part of her. But of course he should have known. Her mother had been a musician, far more than the ‘floozy showgirl’ his grandfather—and the media—had dismissed her as.

Amalia’s immediate future was his responsibility. He’d wanted to give her time to recover from her injuries here in seclusion but now he knew he’d failed her. He owed it to her to ensure she had the training, the education to fulfil the potential, the promise and the passion she clearly felt for her music. And she needed to do that away from here where they still ran articles dismissing her mother and his father. He couldn’t let them compare her to them. He wouldn’t let her down again.

And the supportive tones of her five-foot-two, blue-eyed, dirty-blonde companion had devastated him. Elsie’s laughter? He’d not heard laughter like that in the palace walls. Ever. Nor the singing. He’d fought to resist walking back in there, knowing they’d stop if he did. So he’d closed his eyes and listened in pure torment as the place had shimmered to life. What had Elsie drawn from Amalia?

From him too. There wasn’t the distance between King and commoner that there should be. Somehow she’d stolen in and he’d dispensed with all proper protocol. He never should have teased her, never let her ask him any personal questions. But from the moment they’d met formality hadn’t bothered to show up. Because something else was already there—something addictive and irresistible. She’d challenged, he’d sparked. Hell, even he’d laughed and he hadn’t laughed in an age either.

In all these years he’d been sure he wasn’t jealous of Amalia—for his father Carlos choosing her and her mother over him. For her having that time with him and that freedom far from the palace. Felipe was fine with it. He had a privileged life and a job to do and he honestly loved his palace and his place in it even though it wasn’t always perfect... But right now?

Right now he truly envied his stepsister. He wanted Elsie’s attention too.

But he couldn’t have it. Not how he really wanted it. So he squared his shoulders and reached for a tie.

Elsie was conscious of the eagle-eyed palace footmen as they set out the dinner dishes. Didn’t Amalia and Felipe often have dinner guests? Given how stilted and awkward the initial atmosphere was, she wasn’t even sure they dined together much. Elsie looked again at Felipe. He’d got changed for dinner. He was freshly shaved and his hair was still slightly damp, his shirt crisp and his tie sharp. Immaculate. Urbane. Buttoned up. And so stunning it made her grip on the cutlery weak.

She desperately focused on the food so she didn’t simply stare at him. But her appetite was pathetic—even though the soup was light and delicious, the salads fresh, the steak perfectly cooked. She kept conversation Amalia-centric. It was easiest and safest that way.

‘This is amazing.’ She complimented the indulgent individual molten-centred chocolate cake served for dessert.

‘Not as good as your lemon cake,’ Amalia said loyally.

Elsie chuckled. ‘That’s very kind, but untrue.’

‘Do you enjoy working at the café?’ Felipe suddenly asked.

He’d been quiet through dinner, only occasionally commenting as she and Amalia chatted about favourite songs.

‘Very much.’

‘You don’t worry that working with knives you’ll cut your hand and not be able to play?’ Felipe asked. ‘I’ve met other musicians who wouldn’t even keep sharp knives in their home.’

‘I can understand that, but it’s not like I have a choice.’ She laughed. ‘I need to earn money.’

He looked at her steadily. ‘Why not do that with your music?’

‘That’s flattering of you to think I could, but no.’ She paused. ‘I don’t want pressure. I’d rather peel a sack of potatoes for my pennies and then be able to make music just for me. But Amalia’s different. She’s gifted.’

He nodded thoughtfully and turned to Amalia. ‘After the coronation you’ll return to school, Amalia. I was thinking we should find one with a strong music programme. There are a few on the continent I can think of that might be good.’

‘School?’ Amalia’s eyed widened, then she frowned. Heavily.

‘A specialist music school would be amazing, Amalia,’ Elsie said softly. ‘You could learn every instrument there is.’

Amalia shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go back to school.’

Felipe shrugged. ‘We all must do things we don’t want to. That’s life.’

Amalia’s frown turned into a glare. ‘Like you having to marry after your coronation?’